


K'atini (It Is Only Pain)

by crispyjenkins



Series: Crispy Writes [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chronic Illness, Haat Mando'ade Obi-Wan, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mandalorian Armour Customs, Mando'a, Melida/Daan AU, Pre-Relationship, Trans Obi-Wan Kenobi, blood warning, mostly - Freeform, written by author with relevant chronic illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25215673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crispyjenkins/pseuds/crispyjenkins
Summary: Obi-Wan coughs as Ruusaan presses one hand to the front of his chest, the other between his shoulder blades; Jango feels almost dizzy with something that feels too close to worry, the hair on his neck standing up at the swell of the Force in the tiny cargo bay.“K’atini,” Ruusaan whispers, pressing her forehead to Obi-Wan’s temple.“K’atini, ad’ika,breathe.”A beat of tense quiet, but then–“K’atini,”Obi-Wan wheezes back, and Jango lets out the breath he’d been holding.
Relationships: (of the mother variety), Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Crispy Writes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960120
Comments: 57
Kudos: 569





	1. Ures Haal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Mando’a:**  
>  _in order of appearance_  
>  _beskar’gam_ — Armour made of _beskar,_ “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy  
>  _ures haal_ — breathless, lit. “without breath”  
>  _ghet'bur_ — the collar piece of the chest plate on some beskar'gam, sitting over the shoulders and below the throat. a form of gorget.  
>  _Haat Mando’ade_ — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians  
>  _buir_ — “parent”, gender neutral  
>  _Kyr’tsad_ — Death Watch  
>  _osik_ — impolite form of “dung”, shit  
>  _ad_ — “child”, gender neutral  
>  _’ika_ — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends  
>  _utreekov_ — idiot, fool, lit. “empty head”  
>  _K'atini_ — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.”  
>  _aliit_ — family, clan  
> (more beskar’gam colour meanings can be found on the Mandalorian guild wiki; Obi-Wan's silver is for seeking redemption, and yellow is for remembrance.)
> 
> _  
> _edit: i forgot i also reference an awesome analysis of mental and physical illness in Mandalorian culture, so here's__[that post](https://crispyjenkins.tumblr.com/post/619232217277792256/hi-there-weve-briefly-crossed-paths-before-but)  
> 

Jango had not mentally prepared himself to see Obi-Wan again, though to be fair, he hadn’t known he needed to.

The last time he’d seen Ruusaan’s foundling, Obi-Wan had been sixteen and wiry and spitfire in all the wrong ways, with half-complete _beskar’gam_ and a chip on his shoulder a planet-wide. If he remembers correctly, Obi-Wan had called him an arrogant laserbrain with a junk blaster, and Jango had almost challenged him to an honor duel. But when Jango finally makes his way back to Mandalore after seven— Wait, no, eight years?— abroad as a supercommando, both Ruusaan and Obi-Wan are at Jaster’s war table, bent over a holomap of the system and talking calmly as you please. 

And Obi-Wan is in full _beskar'gam_ , plating painted entirely silver except the yellow clan crest on his left pectoral, and the yellow Mando'a _‘ures haal’,_ breathless, lettered on his _ghet'bur_ above his collarbone. He looks up as Jango enters and blinks in surprise, straightening to reveal his helmet under his arm, also silver except the rises of the cheeks.

Ruusaan breaks into a smile, and for all the trouble Obi-Wan had caused when younger, Jango can’t imagine his childhood without the former Kryze and all she had done for the _Haat Mando’ade_ at the Battle of Galidraan. She’s been following Jaster since she was old enough to denounce her clan, an honorary Mereel even if she thinks herself unworthy of such a connection to her Mand’alor; Jango wonders if she had finally decided on a clan name, if both her and Obi-Wan are painted with a new crest.

For all the loving _buir_ Jaster is, he doesn’t drag things out, and after a quick hug, he pulls Jango into their discussion of relief aid to Concordia after the latest Death Watch insurgence as if Jango had never left. Ruusaan quickly picks up their easy friendship, closer to siblings than superior and subordinate, but Jango absolutely does not know what to do with Obi-Wan’s new calm cadence, the confidence and knowledge that he’s picked up in Jango’s absence. 

He’s surprisingly been running relief missions for Jaster for the last five years, when he isn’t busy taking commando missions with Ruusaan. Obi-Wan gets flustered when his _buir_ mentions this, and Jango wonders what in Sith Hells had happened while he was gone to make Obi-Wan settle down so much from his youth.

His newly-flat chest probably has something to do with it.

Perhaps it isn’t surprising, then, that Obi-Wan somehow wrangles Jango onto the squad of commandos headed for Concordia, Ruusaan smirking as Jango resigns himself to suffering for the next tenday at least. Obi-Wan just claps him on the shoulder before disappearing into the halls of Jaster’s estate, and something in Jango aches at just how much of his armour is silver, at the sort of intention that went into an almost monochrome set of _beskar’gam_. Perhaps not much had actually changed, then.

He should have known any mission to Concordia would go to kriffing hell, especially with Duke Kryze ramping up his antagonism of Death Watch like it won’t be the _Haat Mando’ade_ that pay the price. 

What should have been a simple drop-off of medical supplies to a few refugee groups turns into a firefight with _Kyr’tsad_ , Ruusaan missing her thigh guards and Jango down a blaster, and all three of them ducking into the first empty ship in the guest hangar in hopes of losing their tail. 

Ruusaan slams the button for the door, Jango aiming his remaining blaster at the catwalk until they’re safely ensconced in the dark of some other Mando’s ship, straining their ears for the sound of anyone still following them. Pulling off her helmet, Ruusaan checks the lifesign reader she keeps in her gauntlet, and then grumbles something about interference that doesn’t fill Jango with confidence. He pulls up his comm to try and contact the nearest _Haat Mando’ad_ , but doesn’t get the chance before a wet wheeze rattles the silence of the cargo bay and Ruusaan whips around with a horrified,

“Obi-Wan.”

She rushes to Obi-Wan’s side, where he leans one hand onto the nearest wall in an effort to keep upright, and oh, Jango had forgotten just how harrowing this was. 

Ruusaan removes Obi-Wan’s helmet with practiced ease, setting it aside to pull a rag from one of his belt pouches, holding it to his bleeding nose as she tilts his head forward. Kriff, but Jango hasn’t seen Ruusaan need to use the Force on her foundling since Obi-Wan was a kid, though he knows it must have happened more often behind closed doors. The years since he’s had to stand by and watch Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs has only made it that much harder to stomach. 

Only Jaster knows the whole story of how Obi-Wan had ended up with Ruusaan, just what infection had festered in his lungs before she found him that had ruined him for the rest of his life. Jango has heard rumours that he had been on Melida/Daan during the civil war, that Ruusaan had taken a job from the Young and left with a sick foundling, that his system had been so damaged that he can’t handle a transplant. And Jango’s seen it before, Obi-Wan’s lungs suddenly failing and scaring the _osik_ out of every Mando present, even if they had made note of the marker on his collar. 

By some sort of Force miracle, Obi-Wan had been found by one of the only Force-sensitive _Mando’ade_ that Jango has ever heard of, with just enough power to force her _ad’s_ respiratory system back to rights, almost as if she had been meant to find him.

Obi-Wan coughs as Ruusaan presses one hand to the front of his chest, the other between his shoulder blades; Jango feels almost dizzy with something that feels too close to worry, the hair on his neck standing up at the swell of the Force in the tiny cargo bay. 

_“K’atini,”_ Ruusaan whispers, pressing her forehead to Obi-Wan’s temple with a touch of desperation. _“K’atini, ad’ika,_ **breathe**.” A beat of tense quiet, but then— 

_“K’atini,”_ Obi-Wan wheezes back, and Jango lets out the breath he’d been holding. Ruusan laughs wetly, pulling back just enough to finish wiping under his nose, and brushes his hair back with her free hand; Jango feels a ping of jealousy, but forces it to the background, at least until they can get back to Mandalore.

“We need to get back to the ship,” Ruusaan says to Jango, all while Obi-Wan won’t meet his eye. “He’ll be fine for a while, but I can’t give him what oxygen he’s lost.”

Now this, this Jango can do. He can step up and lead, protect those that are his _aliit_ in everything but name, because this is _action_ , and not just standing there watching someone’s body give up on them. “You good to run?” Jango asks on external comm, Obi-Wan looking to his _buir_ before giving a short nod. Ruusaan purses her lips, but nods as well and stoops to pick up her helmet. 

“Not for long,” she warns, giving Obi-Wan his own before setting her hand back between his shoulderblades. “But the Force tells me there’s no one outside; we move now.”

Jango trusts Obi-Wan to Ruusaan and swiftly leads the way back into the hangar, taking them through two halls and across a catwalk to get to their own ship’s berth; Obi-Wan punches in the key for the door, and lets Jango pull him up into the ship without complaint. Ruusaan is the best pilot out of the three of them, but Jango climbs into the cockpit to start the pre-flight sequence so she can get Obi-Wan set up in the single-bed medbay, because kriff if Jango would know where to start. 

Ruusaan joins him in the cockpit just before take off, some of Duke Kryze leaking through in her stony expression as she drops into the open seat. “Jango,” she says, surprisingly calm for the situation, “please go make sure my _utreekov_ of an _ad_ doesn’t leave the medbay.”

Technically Ruusaan has been _Haat Mando’ade_ longer than Jango, but she isn’t _that_ much older than him, and he’s the son of the Mand’alor, so she shouldn’t be able to order him around like one of her foundlings. But Jango is also a warrior, and he knows when to pick his battles, so he simply nods and lets her get them out of the hangar.

The medbay is little bigger than a closet, and like most, there’s just enough equipment for emergencies, but Ruusaan and Obi-Wan had retrofitted theirs to include a proper ventilator and oxygen tank, as well as a bacta vaporizer Jango has never seen outside of high end Kaledevan hospitals. Luckily Obi-Wan seems resigned to his fate, propped up in the little alcove bed and holding an oxygen mask over his face. He glances up, but only gives Jango a nod and an apologetic smile. 

“How often does that happen?” Jango musters the courage to ask, leaning on the doorjamb. Obi-Wan laughs tiredly, his mask fogging as he thumps his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. 

“Not as much as before,” he says vaguely, his voice still a rasp. “The surgery helped.”

If he’s still dealing with kriffing _dying_ on a monthly basis, Jango is thoroughly impressed he’s been able to serve so close to Jaster for so long, and kriff knows Jaster isn’t _soft_ , so Jango knows whatever space Obi-Wan occupies with the Mand'alor is earned, no matter who his _buir_ is. It seems Jango’s missed quite a lot, off exploring the stars.

Obi-Wan gets a little smile, then, dropping his hand but not opening his eyes. “If I recall… the last time we spoke alone like this—”

“You called me a laserbrain and criticised my blaster.”

He barks out a laugh that’s more like a cough, trying to work off his chest- and backplate; Jango watches him struggle for all of a moment before sighing and pushing the rest of the way into the room to help. Obi-Wan smiles all young and stupid up at him, and from this close, it lodges something in Jango’s throat.

Breathless, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruusaan's name and design are originally by @/amillionstarsandyouchosethisone on tumblr, which can be found on their blog under the tag **#ruusaan kryze (oc)**! i love her dearly and am so thankful amillionstars let me use their brainchild. 
> 
> these will be somewhat non-chronological prompt fills, which you can request more of on my tumblr @/crispyjenkins! the original prompt as follows:
> 
> "Somehow!adopted by a true mandalorian before Galidraan/korda six Obiwan.. so like raised mandalorian Obiwan with Jango/Jaster leading Mandalore" requested by an anon!


	2. Shuk'la Buirok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re the commando?” she demands without preamble, hiding her shaking hands by forcing them into fists. 
> 
> Ruusaan removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm so the kid can see her raise her eyebrow. “I am. You put out the contract?”
> 
> The girl clenches her jaw and nods. “I’m Cerasi. I need you to get someone to Coruscant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Mando’a:**  
>  _shuk’la buirok_ — lit. “broken parent bond”, made up term for the real ability for a child to “divorce” their parent, legally labeling them as _dar’buir_ or “no longer a parent”, which i’ve based on the term for spousal divorce _shuk’la riduurok._  
>  _Haat Mando’ade_ — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to _Haat'ad/e)_  
>  _beskar’gam_ — Armour made of _beskar,_ “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy  
>  _gai bal manda_ — Mando’a adoption ceremony, lit. “name and soul”  
>  _buir_ — “parent”, gender neutral  
>  _vode_ — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers”  
>  _beskar’ta_ — “iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs. also called kar’ta beskar or “heart of the iron”.  
>  _K‘atini_ — “it is only pain”, used in the context of “get up. Keep going. You can and you will survive this.”

Ruusaan remembers a time before the Supercommando Codex, even if her sisters do not, and as soon as she’s old enough to follow Mereel, she crashes the Duke’s council meeting discussing the cutting of the budget for the poorer levels of Sundari. In front of every one of her father’s supporters, she recites the _shuk’la buirok_ and leaves every Kalevalan piece of herself behind.

The _Haat Mando’ade_ welcome her with open arms in spite of her origins, Mereel trains her to fight and helps her build her _beskar’gam,_ and she hopes someday her sisters will grow to make their own decisions as she had. 

Ruusaan walks her path alone unless Mereel calls on her, traveling the stars as _Haat'ad_ , nameless still, but infinitely free. She has no right to Mandalore as her _dar'buir_ believes, but she can live the Truth, and if that’s good enough for her Mand'alor, then it’s good enough for her. 

When she accepts the call to Melida/Daan seven years after joining Mereel, she does so with caution —she will not pull the Haat'ade into their war— but when she lands just outside the capital of Zehava, she’s greeted by a small party of _children._ A girl that can’t be much older than Satine approaches Ruusaan immediately, red hair greasy and in disarray, but exuding determination.

“You’re the commando?” she demands without preamble, hiding her shaking hands by forcing them into fists. 

Ruusaan removes her helmet and tucks it under her arm so the kid can see her raise her eyebrow. “I am. You put out the contract?”

The girl clenches her jaw and nods. “I’m Cerasi. I need you to get someone to Coruscant.”

Immediately wary, Ruusaan looks around the girl to the other children, who stand around someone that positively hums in the Force. “Your contract said transport of goods.”

“He belongs to the Jedi,” she says, spitting the word like it’s poison. “But they aren’t answering his communications, and we— Force, we don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Her confidence falters, darting a quick look behind herself before gripping her arm. “Listen, I don’t have much, we only just won and Nield isn’t— He helped us, he’s the reason we won, no matter what the rest of the Young say. He doesn’t deserve to die here.”

“Kid, I’m not taking your money,” Ruusaan cuts in, Cerasi’s face falling before she continues, “Mandos have creeds about children, I’ll take him for free. Where is he?”

It takes Cerasi a moment to realise what all that means, but then blinks and dashes back to the little group of children. With a growing sense of foreboding, Ruusaan follows, watching the kids part to show a tiny padawan in dirty tunics laying in a makeshift litter, and Ruusaan has to close her eyes for a moment to calm herself. The Force around him wavers like a heat haze, and Ruusaan isn’t trained enough to know what that means; nothing good, if the flickering of the boy’s Force signature is anything to go by.

There’s dried blood on his lips and chin, and she can hear his breathing from here, ragged like it _hurts_ , and it probably does. Cerasi bites her lip and moves to pick the kid up, but Ruusaan quickly steps in and kneels to check the kid’s ribs first. Nothing seems broken, he barely even seems bruised, which certainly doesn’t fill her with confidence, but at least it’s safe enough to lift him.

She puts her helmet back on before carefully scooping the kid into her arms, and he actually feels an alright weight for how thin the other children look. Ruusaan turns back towards her ship and jerks her head for Carasi to follow her.

“What’s his name?”

Cerasi quickly moves to catch up, chewing at her lip again. “Obi-Wan, but that isn’t what the Jedi he was with called him.”

Hm. “How long has he been sick?”

“He came to us like that. He would just— cough, all the time, and the Jedi didn’t know what was wrong with him.” She follows Ruusaan up the ramp into her little ship, heading for the medbay. “He— After he promised to help us, the Jedi left him here.”

Rage nearly smothers her, and Ruusaan locks it into her chest for later, after she leaves atmo; Obi-Wan twitches in her arms in response to her sudden spike of emotion, and she can’t have that. “They left him?”

“Look, I don’t— I don’t know how it all works. But Obi-Wan gave up being a padawan to help us, I think, and I think that’s why the Jedi aren’t responding.” Cerasi watches her set Obi-Wan on the far-too large bed, her lip starting to bleed under her teeth.

Ruusaan hands her a tissue, but sets aside her helmet to quickly cut the boy out of his tabards and tunics. Just as she had thought, Obi-Wan is wearing a compression shirt under it all; Cerasi looks terrified when she cuts him out of this too, and Ruusaan sends her a reassuring smile.

“Peace, kid, Mandalorians accept all. Has he been wearing this often?”

“All the time,” she says uncertainly, ducking forward when beckoned to help Ruusaan get Obi-Wan’s dirty clothes out from under him. “Is that what caused this?”

“It certainly didn’t help.” They fall into silence as Ruusaan gets a ventilator hooked up, Cerasi jumping in to help as instructed, but there isn’t much Ruusaan can do with her sparse medical equipment. She doesn’t even have bacta. 

“Are you… Are you going to take him to the Jedi?”

Ruusaan snorts, making sure Obi-Wan’s vitals are being logged before turning to Cerasi. “Absolutely not. I would never return a child to those that abandoned them.”

Obi-Wan makes a small sound, eyelids flickering for a moment, but he doesn’t wake, and Ruusaan realises her heart is in her throat. Well, that settles that, then. “I’ll take him back to my people, decide where he best belongs,” she adds, as if the _gai bal manda_ isn’t already burning her lips. 

It seems to satisfy Cerasi enough to return to the Young, and she leaves Obi-Wan with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered apology. She races out of the ship before Ruusaan can ask her anything else, and she does not follow. Ruusaan’s contract is on the bed behind her, and you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved.

* * *

Jango doesn’t know if it’s Ruusaan or Jaster’s machinations that has him covering contracts with Obi-Wan more than any other commando, but he’d appreciate it if they stopped before Jango has an actual heart attack.

Because Obi-Wan, for all his new calm and easy demeanor, is even more _reckless_ than when he was a child, and Jango hadn’t thought that was possible. He jumps into fights without checking escape routes, and uses his rifle in close combat as well as his fists, he doesn’t travel with a jetpack, and he removes his helmet any time they’re not in an active right.

_“It’s easier to breathe without it,”_ Obi-Wan tells him on another mercy mission to Concordia. _“Buir tried to hook an oxygen tank up to it, but they were all too heavy.”_ And he shrugs like it’s _fine_ , and Jango decides he has a death wish.

Ruusaan either joins them on missions, or takes contracts nearby, never too far if… anything went wrong. Luckily, things rarely do, and Jango only has to see Ruusaan restart Obi-Wan’s lungs once after that first mission back, and even then Obi-Wan had been fine within the day.

They make it a year and a half of missions together before things go _wrong_ , stranded in a rusty hut on Yutha during a dust storm, with Ruusaan somewhere on the other side of the canyon to the North taking a different job. 

Theirs had been a simple contract to retrieve some Neimoidian’s data disk that he’d left with a lover, and Jango is only there because Obi-Wan had _asked_ him to be, and if it weren’t for the dust storm, it might have been as easy as it sounded.

Obi-Wan is at the one window, the barrel of his rifle propped on the sill as he watches the red dirt road outside for anyone trying to take advantage of the storm, though they’re pretty sure their hiding spot has been abandoned for a while. Jango had taken up leaning on the wall on the other side of the window frame, watching Obi-Wan more than he’s watching the outside, and even after almost two years back working with other _Haat’ade_ , he has trouble contending this Obi-Wan with the fourteen year-old that had once tried to set his cape on fire.

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to Jango with a tiny, barely-there smirk and readjusts his rifle on his shoulder before returning to his vigil. Shaking his head, Jango is almost thankful Obi-Wan had removed his helmet as soon as they’d secured the hut; how else would he have seen the Yutha sunset painted on his face? 

Hm. He should probably look into that affection that’s becoming harder to ignore. 

“Jango,” Obi-Wan rasps, yanking his attention away from the rising dust storm as Obi-Wan’s hand darts up to his bleeding nose. 

His entire body jerks, his blaster rifle clattering to the floor, and Jango has to dive forward to catch him before he hits his head on the windowsill. He starts coughing before Jango can even get him laid out, struggling against Jango’s arms and splattering blood across his chestplate.

And these coughs are worse than the last time, shorter, harsher, and Jango has been in enough battles to recognise someone going into shock.

This is all wrong, though, it never goes this fast, where Obi-Wan is already choking on his own lungs, eyes wild as his body attempts to shake apart, and Jango’s never had to deal with this alone, and oh Force, Ruusaan “the Jedi Killer” Tra’Galar is going to lose her foundling on Jango’s watch.

The dilapidated furniture starts to rattle as if shook from below, anything left on shelves or counters levitating for a moment before crashing to the ground. Jango yanks off his helmet and has to grab Obi-Wan’s wrists to stop him from clawing at his own armour, Jango feeling him pulling the Force in around them until it’s an almost unbearable weight. 

And Jango can’t _get him into shock position,_ not with him thrashing around with far more strength than he should possess with at least one lung collapsing, if his wheezing is anything to go by. His skin is cold and clammy when Jango manages to get a free hand onto his forehead, and despite years of having to patch up _vode_ on the battlefield, Jango can’t tear his eyes from the blood that bubbles from his nose and drips down his face, staining his hair and making something dislodge in Jango’s chest. 

“Hey, hey— Kid, hey, you with me?”

Obi-Wan blinks and his face scrunches, but he can’t seem to focus on Jango as he tries to jerk himself free from Jango’s hand. Holding him down is going against everything Jaster had taught him about shock, but every commando he’s had to treat for it has been unconscious by now, and even when Obi-Wan’s strength gives out, going limp against the floor, he doesn’t pass out, instead staying aware of his own rattling wheezes. 

His fingers twitch in Jango’s hand, blinking again and jerking under the palm on his forehead; somewhere behind them, a piece of furniture crashes. Jango can’t honestly remember the last time he’d seen Obi-Wan use the Force, for anything: they keep it on the downlow even around the _Haat’ade_ , even with Ruusaan broadcasting her own sensitivity as a point of pride. And Jango has never asked, why Obi-Wan will paint his _beskar’gam_ silver but then refuse to acknowledge his past with the Jedi.

Something else crashes and Jango winces, moving to try and loosen Obi-Wan’s chestplate one-handed. It’s halfway through the process, with Obi-Wan’s jerking chest even more obvious, that Jango realises he isn’t going to survive it, if Obi-Wan dies like this. Force, he can’t take it if he dies like this.

The faint hum of a jetpack is the only warning Jango gets before the door to the hut explodes under blasterfire, Ruusaan shouldering through the remains and looking like a vengeful goddess with charred armour and a slice on her cheek. 

She drops on Obi-Wan’s other side, tossing her rifle away to put one palm over Obi-Wan’s heart, and the other on his right side over his ribs. Jango makes to pull away and let her take over, but as soon as he does, Obi-Wan starts to thrash again, and Ruusaan’s hand flies out to stop Jango.

“Keep him calm,” she orders, brooking no argument, and Jango listens, grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrists again to settle in for seven of the worst minutes of his life — where Obi-Wan stops breathing entirely on them _twice_ , and Ruusaan growls like a rancor before she manages to inflate both of his lungs properly. 

Obi-Wan gasps on the sudden ability to inhale, eyes regaining some of their clarity, but he still can’t focus on either of them.

Ruusaan is unsurprised, grabbing up her rifle to swing the strap back over his shoulder. “How far is the ship?” she demands, and Jango’s been a soldier since he was fourteen, he can fall in and defer to Ruusaan’s command, even accept her lead with relief. 

“Just over the ridge,” he says, slamming his helmet back on and shouldering Obi-Wan’s blaster as Ruusaan picks him up like he weighs _nothing_ , even in full beskar’gam. Bewildered and a little intimidated, Jango helps put both her and Obi-Wan’s helmets on as well — the dust storm clearly isn’t stopping, and they can’t stay here.

He grabs Obi-Wan’s chestplate and follows Ruusaan back to their ship, and even though Obi-Wan is unconscious by the time they reach it, Jango is all too thankful to be able to close the hatch behind them. 

In the medbay, he helps strip Obi-Wan of his armour, and then works on getting the blood off his face enough for a ventilator while Ruusaan rolls Obi-Wan’s flight suit down to his waist so she can get at his ribs.

Jango can hardly look at him, at the patchwork of darkening lavender bruises and the way his chest scars stand out against his heated skin. Carefully lifting Obi-Wan’s head to slip on the ventilator mask, he wishes he could wash Obi-Wan’s face properly, there’s still so much dried and drying blood under his nose and down his cheeks, and he just wishes he understood what the kark is wrong with him.

Instead of asking, Jango moves to get the bacta vaporiser set up while Ruusaan goes about checking Obi-Wan’s ribs for breaks. 

Obi-Wan stirs when Jango is hooking up the second set of tubing to his mask, blinking blearily up at Jango as he freezes above him. They just sort of stare at each other for a moment, until Obi-Wan seems to get his bearings and relaxes under Ruusaan slowly dancing Force healing across his torso.

Panic lodges in Jango’s throat as Obi-Wan makes several attempts to lift his hand, grunting in frustration. Ruusaan glares, but allows it when he can finally raise a loose fist to Jango’s chest, tapping over his _beskar’ta_ in proxy of his own, thanking Jango like he had _actually done anything,_ and Jango has to lean on the head of the bunk with both hands. 

“ _K’atini_ ,” Obi-Wan whispers, voice sounding like it’d gone through a woodchipper, and Jango thinks _kriff_ that, this is worse than pain, and they shouldn’t have to watch this kriffing kid die because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> would gffa’s advanced medicine be able to perform mastectomies without scarring? yes. obi chose to keep his.
> 
> bind safely, kids, i'm always open if you have trans questions.


End file.
